Chapter Five
Dec. 6th, 2004 03:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
under_hatchesM&C, 1.547 words, no slash yet.
Chapter Five, in which Stephen embarks on a field trip and Jack comes to a conclusion.
It had been a pleasant dinner with Stephen, yet Jack could not help but think about the evening again and again; as if something most important had been missing; something that he should have mentioned yet had not been able to think of. It troubled him dearly, and even while he was on his way to the shore, standing in the skiff and facing the opulent greenery, he did not register any details. Stephen, almost impatient with anticipation, seemed far away although he was seated right next to him. Jack could hear him talking about some plant or animal, uttering Latin names with such conviction as if he were citing from the bible. But those words stayed mere shells, their reason and meaning being kept away from Jack to whom they seemed distant and aloof.
Utterly wrapped in thoughts, Jack did not hear the question, not even when Stephen repeated it. He only looked down when Stephen placed a hand on his arm, and for a moment he noticed how pale the doctor’s skin seemed next to his, even though Stephen spent most of his time on the poop reading or being on a constant lookout for sea birds.
“Will there be time for a short trip inland,” Stephen asked for a third time, looking vaguely concerned.
“Why, yes, I would think so,” Jack replied half-heartedly.
The evening had been agreeable indeed. Killick had provided them not only with a lovely dinner but also with the dark Spanish wine Stephen enjoyed so much. Jack knew it was not out of charity but the hope of restocking in South America. After their meal they had played together, a hauntingly tune Stephen had picked, and Jack mused that this melody may be the reason for his dark mood. He would have had prefered a cheery tune, but Stephen had looked at him, and Jack had not had the heart to argue. He had felt sobered by the sad melody, and by the time Stephen had left for his cabin, Jack had felt the same unnecessary regret as he did now.
“Jack.”
Even now, with the sun already firmly on his back, he was trying to remember what it could have been he had wanted to say, yet had not found the words for.
“Jack.”
He looked at Stephen who had risen from his seat and now stood next to him, staggering slightly.
“Stephen, I think you remember what happened the last time you stood up in a rowboat,” Jack chided.
“Yes, and I promised not to do anything like that ever again. Which I won’t, my dear. But we have reached the shore and I’m about to embark, if you will let me.”
Jack blushed slightly. He mumbled inintelligibly, and busied himself with helping Stephen with his equipment. Jack had watched Stephen as he had dragged boxes and cages into the boat, more than he could ever carry at once. Yet Jack had smiled and watched, never chiding the doctor but never lending a hand either. Now he gladly accepted the task of getting them safe and dry on shore.
Jack had always found that Stephen was a different man on shore than he was at sea. And he knew that if one was to ask the doctor, he would have gotten a similiar reply about Jack himself. But whereas Stephen moved with an ease that he did not possess at sea, Jack felt out of place. His element was the oceans of the world, the small but complete society of a man-of-war. He had his opinions about politics and morality, but not Stephen’s savoir faire. And while he followed Stephen to the camp that the men started to set up, he missed the soft hum of a ship under his feet.
“Will you allow the men to venture into town?”
“I will have to. We are in dear need of supplies, and the carpenter surely can’t carry out the repairs without one thing or the other.”
Stephen made a face.
“Well, then. Ask the carpenter to bring back some mercury as I will need it to treat their pox, once they are back from their adventures. Will you go too and join them?”
Jack thought about the last shore leave. Stephen had prefered to stay at a small inn, spending his time alone either looking for supplies or at the harbor where he drew into one of his leatherbound notebooks or stared out to the ship.
“I think I rather join you on your expedition.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow, yet gave no reply. He wrote down a list of medical supplies and handed it to Bonden. He gathered his belongings, and after inspecting his tent, he came back with his straw hat and a mixed assortment of boxes and bags. He peered into the sun, put on his hat, and nodded towards Jack.
“I think I’m all set. We can go.”
He grinned when Jack got to his feet, and without another word Stephen went ahead, heartily strutting along a small path of sand that lead from the shore into the dark green heart of the forest.
“The trees, Jack, look at the trees! Cocos, fifty to sixty feet high! Poinciana pulcherrima, over there, the shrub with the bright orange-red flowers; the herbaceous perennial must be at least two feet!”
Jack followed him as best as he could, yet he displayed none of the doctor’s excitement, at least not at the sight of yet another shrub or weed or leaf.
“Do you see these trees over there? I doubt I have seen anything similiar. Look at their enormous leaves! And the flowers sprouting from the stem, how unlikely. They seem to be some kind of parasite. Careful, Jack, don’t step on the centipede.”
Hastily, Jack jumped to the side. He looked down just in time to see the a slim body vanish between the fallen leaves.
“What was that horrible thing? It had at least 50 feet,” he cried.
“Fifteen pairs of legs, and additional 5 pairs of spiracles, more likely,” Stephen said, sounding very amused.
Jack looked very stern at this, yet he was pleased to see Stephen move with such energy and grace. He watched Stephen cutting samples and digging out small plants. Sometimes Stephen would hold out his hand, waiting for Jack to accept what ever he had just found, only to pick up the next thing a breath later. Both pockets of Jack’s coat were already filled with twigs and seeds, cut leaves and hard fruits. Most samples however quickly vanished into one of Stephen’s bags. He wore three linen bags slung around his slim shoulders, and held another one close to his breast. Stephen had settled for a manageble number of containers before leaving the camp, Jack noticed to his surprise.
Jack had spent the forenoon watching Stephen as he had filled nuts into small linen pouches, certain leaves into a leather pouch.
He had stumbled over roots and plants that either curled on the ground like rope or were swung up into the trees like rigging.
When he came to a small clearing, Stephen had already spread a blanket and reclined on it, chewing on small leaves. He waved towards one of his bags and then fully lay down, his hands crossed over his breast.
“What about you, Stephen,” Jack asked when he discovered Stephen had not left the camp without ensuring a decent lunch, “Are you hungry, my dear doctor?”
“No, not at all. I feel quite complacent. Not hungry at all. What a wonderful spot we have found. Quiet peaceful.”
Jack looked over at the small amout of leaves left in Stephen’s hand.
“Still, if you want to have something besides,” he gestured towards the leaves again, “I’d be more than happy to share. You packed more than enough for three grown men.”
“I know your appetite when you are on shore, my joy.”
Jack paused and looked down at the bag and then over to Stephen. There was no malice in his face, just a sadness so soft it could have been Jack imagining it. After gathering a little more then he planned to eat, he sat down next to Stephen, who remained stretched out. His face to the sun, Jack started peeling and cutting the apples, and preparing bread and jam for himself. Whenever he looked over at Stephen, he found the other man with his eyes closed and a hint of a smile on his lips. The mere sounds of the jungle, the birds, the rustling of the leaves, left the naturalist peaceful and radiant. Jack licked the juice from the fruits off his fingers, when Stephen stirred.
“You were always prone to indulging your sweet tooth,” Stephen said, his eyes still closed. When Jack opened his mouth to speak, he added: “And don’t argue. I can smell the jam from over here.”
Jack shut his mouth again, looked out into the trees and wondered. He smiled softly when he turned back to Stephen, who now looked at him.
“A man can change his habits, my dear doctor,” Jack said, and fed Stephen a quarter of apple, “A man can change.”
Chapter Five, in which Stephen embarks on a field trip and Jack comes to a conclusion.
It had been a pleasant dinner with Stephen, yet Jack could not help but think about the evening again and again; as if something most important had been missing; something that he should have mentioned yet had not been able to think of. It troubled him dearly, and even while he was on his way to the shore, standing in the skiff and facing the opulent greenery, he did not register any details. Stephen, almost impatient with anticipation, seemed far away although he was seated right next to him. Jack could hear him talking about some plant or animal, uttering Latin names with such conviction as if he were citing from the bible. But those words stayed mere shells, their reason and meaning being kept away from Jack to whom they seemed distant and aloof.
Utterly wrapped in thoughts, Jack did not hear the question, not even when Stephen repeated it. He only looked down when Stephen placed a hand on his arm, and for a moment he noticed how pale the doctor’s skin seemed next to his, even though Stephen spent most of his time on the poop reading or being on a constant lookout for sea birds.
“Will there be time for a short trip inland,” Stephen asked for a third time, looking vaguely concerned.
“Why, yes, I would think so,” Jack replied half-heartedly.
The evening had been agreeable indeed. Killick had provided them not only with a lovely dinner but also with the dark Spanish wine Stephen enjoyed so much. Jack knew it was not out of charity but the hope of restocking in South America. After their meal they had played together, a hauntingly tune Stephen had picked, and Jack mused that this melody may be the reason for his dark mood. He would have had prefered a cheery tune, but Stephen had looked at him, and Jack had not had the heart to argue. He had felt sobered by the sad melody, and by the time Stephen had left for his cabin, Jack had felt the same unnecessary regret as he did now.
“Jack.”
Even now, with the sun already firmly on his back, he was trying to remember what it could have been he had wanted to say, yet had not found the words for.
“Jack.”
He looked at Stephen who had risen from his seat and now stood next to him, staggering slightly.
“Stephen, I think you remember what happened the last time you stood up in a rowboat,” Jack chided.
“Yes, and I promised not to do anything like that ever again. Which I won’t, my dear. But we have reached the shore and I’m about to embark, if you will let me.”
Jack blushed slightly. He mumbled inintelligibly, and busied himself with helping Stephen with his equipment. Jack had watched Stephen as he had dragged boxes and cages into the boat, more than he could ever carry at once. Yet Jack had smiled and watched, never chiding the doctor but never lending a hand either. Now he gladly accepted the task of getting them safe and dry on shore.
Jack had always found that Stephen was a different man on shore than he was at sea. And he knew that if one was to ask the doctor, he would have gotten a similiar reply about Jack himself. But whereas Stephen moved with an ease that he did not possess at sea, Jack felt out of place. His element was the oceans of the world, the small but complete society of a man-of-war. He had his opinions about politics and morality, but not Stephen’s savoir faire. And while he followed Stephen to the camp that the men started to set up, he missed the soft hum of a ship under his feet.
“Will you allow the men to venture into town?”
“I will have to. We are in dear need of supplies, and the carpenter surely can’t carry out the repairs without one thing or the other.”
Stephen made a face.
“Well, then. Ask the carpenter to bring back some mercury as I will need it to treat their pox, once they are back from their adventures. Will you go too and join them?”
Jack thought about the last shore leave. Stephen had prefered to stay at a small inn, spending his time alone either looking for supplies or at the harbor where he drew into one of his leatherbound notebooks or stared out to the ship.
“I think I rather join you on your expedition.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow, yet gave no reply. He wrote down a list of medical supplies and handed it to Bonden. He gathered his belongings, and after inspecting his tent, he came back with his straw hat and a mixed assortment of boxes and bags. He peered into the sun, put on his hat, and nodded towards Jack.
“I think I’m all set. We can go.”
He grinned when Jack got to his feet, and without another word Stephen went ahead, heartily strutting along a small path of sand that lead from the shore into the dark green heart of the forest.
“The trees, Jack, look at the trees! Cocos, fifty to sixty feet high! Poinciana pulcherrima, over there, the shrub with the bright orange-red flowers; the herbaceous perennial must be at least two feet!”
Jack followed him as best as he could, yet he displayed none of the doctor’s excitement, at least not at the sight of yet another shrub or weed or leaf.
“Do you see these trees over there? I doubt I have seen anything similiar. Look at their enormous leaves! And the flowers sprouting from the stem, how unlikely. They seem to be some kind of parasite. Careful, Jack, don’t step on the centipede.”
Hastily, Jack jumped to the side. He looked down just in time to see the a slim body vanish between the fallen leaves.
“What was that horrible thing? It had at least 50 feet,” he cried.
“Fifteen pairs of legs, and additional 5 pairs of spiracles, more likely,” Stephen said, sounding very amused.
Jack looked very stern at this, yet he was pleased to see Stephen move with such energy and grace. He watched Stephen cutting samples and digging out small plants. Sometimes Stephen would hold out his hand, waiting for Jack to accept what ever he had just found, only to pick up the next thing a breath later. Both pockets of Jack’s coat were already filled with twigs and seeds, cut leaves and hard fruits. Most samples however quickly vanished into one of Stephen’s bags. He wore three linen bags slung around his slim shoulders, and held another one close to his breast. Stephen had settled for a manageble number of containers before leaving the camp, Jack noticed to his surprise.
Jack had spent the forenoon watching Stephen as he had filled nuts into small linen pouches, certain leaves into a leather pouch.
He had stumbled over roots and plants that either curled on the ground like rope or were swung up into the trees like rigging.
When he came to a small clearing, Stephen had already spread a blanket and reclined on it, chewing on small leaves. He waved towards one of his bags and then fully lay down, his hands crossed over his breast.
“What about you, Stephen,” Jack asked when he discovered Stephen had not left the camp without ensuring a decent lunch, “Are you hungry, my dear doctor?”
“No, not at all. I feel quite complacent. Not hungry at all. What a wonderful spot we have found. Quiet peaceful.”
Jack looked over at the small amout of leaves left in Stephen’s hand.
“Still, if you want to have something besides,” he gestured towards the leaves again, “I’d be more than happy to share. You packed more than enough for three grown men.”
“I know your appetite when you are on shore, my joy.”
Jack paused and looked down at the bag and then over to Stephen. There was no malice in his face, just a sadness so soft it could have been Jack imagining it. After gathering a little more then he planned to eat, he sat down next to Stephen, who remained stretched out. His face to the sun, Jack started peeling and cutting the apples, and preparing bread and jam for himself. Whenever he looked over at Stephen, he found the other man with his eyes closed and a hint of a smile on his lips. The mere sounds of the jungle, the birds, the rustling of the leaves, left the naturalist peaceful and radiant. Jack licked the juice from the fruits off his fingers, when Stephen stirred.
“You were always prone to indulging your sweet tooth,” Stephen said, his eyes still closed. When Jack opened his mouth to speak, he added: “And don’t argue. I can smell the jam from over here.”
Jack shut his mouth again, looked out into the trees and wondered. He smiled softly when he turned back to Stephen, who now looked at him.
“A man can change his habits, my dear doctor,” Jack said, and fed Stephen a quarter of apple, “A man can change.”
